


Things That Must be Earned

by canibecandid



Series: Marks Across Skin [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-08
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-07 22:31:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1916379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canibecandid/pseuds/canibecandid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was too much red in her ledger for such soft words, too many things that she'd never be forgiven for, and these words were almost damning to her because she would never be worthy of that instantaneous trust. Her soulmate must either be a fool or eager to die, maybe both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Natasha

She hadn't received her words until the drugs that had been regimented to her in the Red Room had completely left her system. She knew exactly where they'd be, the tiny itch right at curve of her hip that never seemed to go away no matter how much she ignored it. There on her skin, written in a loopy twirl of a hand, were the words " _Okay, I trust you."_

Natasha felt bile rise in her throat as she traced the words with her thumb, willing them to be _anything else_. 

There was too much red in her ledger for such soft words, too many things that she'd never be forgiven for, and these words were almost damning to her because she would never be worthy of that instantaneous trust. Her soulmate must either be a fool or eager to die, maybe both.

If she was made of less, she might cry a tear for them, but she is the Widow and such things are lost on her.

She tries to be worthy of her words anyway, working with SHEILD and reforming her ways. She is still devious and cunning, some things cannot be changed, but she can be softer to those who need her help.

* * *

 

Natasha does not like to be placed on a large team, preferring to go on her missions with Hawkeye, who's words were neither damning or those of a fool. "You're going to have to try harder than that to kill me, Widow." are ingrained in her mind along with his smug grin.

 They work well together and it is easy to build a friendship with the man, or as close to a friendship as Natasha feels she could ever get. It's almost alarming how easy it could be to fall asleep in his presence, but she doesn't dwell on it. It never does well to dwell on anything, and it isn't in her nature to do so

Sometimes she catches Clint staring at his hands idly, as if looking through his gloves.

Her name was Bobbi, Clint tells her one day as they wait for their pick up, and her words had been " _At least it was you._ " She was the only mission Clint had ever failed, being young and maybe a little too self-assured in himself. Bobbi's words had been " _Hey, you need to keep your eyes open._ " but she hadn't. Bobbi had died in his arms at that bank, and after that Clint's mission success rating became just as legendary as his aim.

 He has another one on his ankle a small scribble of " _So you're the man in the ducts?_ " and she can tell what type of day it has been due to those marks.

 "You know what's really terrifying? I'm old enough to be this kid's father." Clint laughs, his thumb stroking the line of text on his crossed ankles. Platonic soulmates happened sometimes, but they rarely had words. Shapes and symbols filled with colors and patterns were marked for platonics, much like the little arrows on the insides of her fingers and and the red web design that tracked down Clint's back.  Words were reserved for those to be engraved on a heart; their soulmate's heart.

 A heart, which if you believed the gossip, Natasha didn't have.

But her thumb idly skims across her hip, and she feels slightly exposed to know the truth.

_Okay, I trust you._  

* * *

She remembers very little, other than staring up at the sun with her ward dead behind her, the bullet that the ghost had shot straight through her hip into the head of her ward. Natasha can't tell if she's crying or not, she can't stand, she can hardly breathe as her hands scramble over her wound and automatically go through the motions of self-preservation.

A little less than ten minutes later, Clint is at her side and hefting her into the helicarrier. He stays at her side as the on-sight medic examines and cleans the wound, and if she fractured a bone in his hand with her iron tight fist, he hadn't even flinched. Her breathing is deep and calm, so why is she trembling so? 

"It's still there, Nat. The wound is right under it. Don't worry, your words are still there." Clint reassured her quietly as the flew above bodies of water. She felt herself relax in a slight manner and it didn't settle well with in her that she was worried about the beautiful script being mangled. She closed her eyes and pictured the obliterated words instead of what was actually there on her skin. She did not flinch, but her stomach rolled and she didn't like it at all.

"You're okay, Nat. They are still there."

* * *

 

More marks surrounded her than ever in joining the Avengers Initiative.

Steven and the bullet with the red star in it on his shoulder, the words " _Hello, I'm Agent Carter_." printed neatly on the inside of his middle finger, and _"I guess you never learned to dance_." circled around a thick bicep in a swiggly hand.

 Pepper's " _Hello gorgeous_." stamped right on her butt cheek earned a few laughs, but it paired well with Tony's " _It's Pepper to you, you have a meeting in ten minutes and I am never late_." that went straight down his leg.

 Bruce did not speak of his words " _I'm Betty_ " that wrapped gently around his ring finger, right wear a band would sit, and Natasha had never the urge to hug and yet strangle a person at the same time. It was an interesting sensation.

 Much to everyone's surprise, even Thor had " _Do me a favor and don't be dead._ " scrawled neatly on his rib cage. He talked increasingly about the Lady Jane and her "handmaiden" Lady Darcy, who apparently wielded a small box of lightening and was mighty indeed.

It also does not suit Thor well when Jane Sydney Foster manages to get a hold of Pepper Potts and explains who she is and then tearfully relays that Darcy had been taken. Steve assembles them when they gather the needed information to get to Darcy Elaine Lewis who was now being held captive for information on the Bifrost.  
"How much does she know?" Steve asked as they flew to their location, Jane on the holoscreen

"She knows a lot more than she lets on. Darcy has the numbers but no equation. She wouldn't know how to translate it right." Jane cries, wringing her hands and Thor bellows that they will return the Lady Darcy to her safe and sound.

 Natasha mans the computers and communication when it's clear that JARVIS will not be as accessible due to some type of frequency that the base is giving off. Clint is nearing his position and acquiring the asset when the com for Darcy blinks to life. "Darcy, this is Natasha, don't worry I'm going to get you through this."

 She hears the stuttered breath on the other side of the com and Natasha freezes for a millisecond as four words come from their recently reacquired person. "Okay, I trust you."


	2. Darcy

_"Darcy, it's Natasha, I'm going to get you through this okay?”_

The words circled her calf muscle in a neat and clear scrawl that Darcy looks over curiously. She often wonders what her soulmate would get her through, exactly. Her mama shrugs with a wavering smile as she washes her apron from the diner in their kitchen sink, telling stories of her grandparents and how they met.

"Mama, where's your mark?" Darcy asks one evening, recoloring one of her pictures in the little coloring books her mother would buy her if she'd been particularly good that week. Her ma had stopped rolling her coins and organizing pennies to look at her fondly.

"Don't have one, Darcy girl." The words were said without malice or bitterness, just a soft sort of sadness that crinkles around her eyes. "Not everyone is as lucky as you are. You even have a name attached to your mark, you must be real careful about that, ya hear?"

“But mama, you’re wonderful! How can you not have a mark? What does that even mean?” Darcy pouts, her frown creasing deeply.

“Don’t gotta clue, Darce.” Mama cups her cheek gently and strokes her thumb back and forth. "I ain’t gotta clue why I don’t have a mark, I ain't gotta clue what your words mean, but I know that there's a real special girl waitin' for you. She's gonna get you through anythin' and everythin'." She peppers the little girl's face with kisses until she was squealing in her chair.

"But mama, who's going to get you through anything and everything?" Darcy asks, holding her mother's face in her tiny little hands. Her mother kisses the palms of both of her hands and then holds them to her heart.

"You, Darce. I ain't got no Natasha waitin' for me. But I have you, and that gets me through whatever life throws at us." She smils affectionately, kissing the top of her daughters head.

Darcy sucks on her bottom lip, worrying it with her teeth. "Like, a double shift on Friday when Mr. Santos knows you gotta work on Saturday morning?"

"Exactly like that, suga'."

* * *

 She never really asks about her dad growing up because her mama loves her more than anything, and that was more than enough for her. But she craves adventure, and she knows how to chase it too. From climbing trees that were unsteady, unsure, Darcy would never lose balance because if she could get through this then she could get through anything

Darcy grows up in Blue Bird Bakery when she isn’t swinging from tree limbs, a little café/diner that her mama works at for most of her life. She learns how to make coffee as soon as she can see over the counters, she busses tables a little, and she rolls silverware. When she gets older she learns to make the pies and cookies that Ol' Mama Z churns out everyday with a smile, and Darcy could lose herself for hours in the making of pies and pie dough.

They have big dreams for her, and they tell her that she can do anything sets her mind to, anything at all. So she chases after writings and the ways things work, mechanics coming to her easily, like biscuits and honey. She likes the feeling of the heavy tools in her hands and the feeling of pride when she gets something to sputter to life.

When her uncle's roll up a motorcycle that needs more than just a little love, she spends hours pouring coffee and soaking up knowledge to fix it so that she can feel it rumble under her fingers.

* * *

 She breaks hearts, gets her heart broken, sprains her ankle, and applies to colleges because she know that she'll get through anything. And when Darcy goes through her first heartbreak, she knows that she will make it through because Natasha is out there with a promise to make sure that it happens. Even when times were hard for the Lewis's, when bread and butter only stretched so far, Darcy knew she'd pull through.

As Darcy gets older, she gets smarter. She waits tables and fixes cars as a side job, but lives to watch the political debates during the election season. She wonders what it’d be like to be apart of something that would change the world.

She chases her dreams as far as they can take her and then her courage takes her a few steps further. Loading up the Chevy truck that had once been yard art, she knows that she'll make it with her mama and the promise of Natasha.

The truck isn't her bike, and it doesn't fit in a Culver, but she's not looking to fit in. Whatever obstacles and roadblocks she meets, Darcy either obliterates them or finds another rout, because failure isn't an option in her eyes. She'll make it through hell or high water, because there's a little nagging voice telling her that she can.

She chases her dreams to the skies of New Mexico, when she wonders if Culver is everything it's cracked up to be and she's a few credits shy of a piece of paper that has nothing to do with how much she's actually worth. She spends her days making coffee and running data, pushing a poptart in front of her boss-turned-friend, and occasionally baking a pan of cookies that make everyone feel a little more at home.

Darcy wonders if Natasha would feel like home, too.

* * *

When Thor touches down, Darcy spends a lot of time thinking about the mark on her left calf. She evacuates anyone that comes near her, telling them the fastest route out of hell and send them with one of pets from the pet stores along the way. She trusts in her words, because Natasha has her back, Natasha will be there to look out for her and Darcy will always carry on.

Even in SHEILD's creepy ass van of doom, getting her mouth swabbed and her iPod jacked, Darcy knows she'll make it but that doesn't mean her life doesn't get turned upside down when her DNA pings both her mother and Tony Stark from national and SHEILD data bank.

The Son of Coul looks at her with any eyebrow raised as she flounders with the information. Her knack for debate, snark, and mechanics must have been genetically passed to her since she'd never interacted with the man. With her mind still racing, hands shaking and palms sweating, she points a finger at Coulson.

"I never want to hear about _this_  again." She says, waving hand at the screen showing the two halves of her genetic makeup, and she hauls herself out of the van and pulls her cardigan tighter.

And for the first time Darcy thinks that this is not something Natasha can get her through.

* * *

"So I know who my dad is." Darcy says softly over a cup of coffee in the little diner that she grew up in, as Jane and Eric are still being checked out by the jackbooted thugs.

"Um-hum." Her mom murmurs, never wavering from rolling her silverware.

"You knew didn't you?" There wasn't any judgement or resentment, just a tiredness that ached in her bones. She rubs the toe of her shoe over her calf and closes her eyes. Mama just makes a noise of confirmation next to her, just pacing herself through her work. "Why? Why didn't you say something? You wouldn't have had to live like this, we could have had better." Darcy sniffles, but she didn't cry.

"Darcy Elaine, don't you think I know that? Don't you think durin' those first few months I wanted to storm up to Stark Industries and give him a piece of my mind? But I kept thinkin' to myself about if he'd take you from me. I didn't have much then, less than we have now, and I couldn't stand the thought of the man who had everythin' havin’ you too. An-and it mighta been a little selfish, a little foolish, but we made it alright. We were happy, isn't that what matters?"

Darcy sags into her mother's shoulder. "You're right, you're right. I know you are, and you always made sure I was happy. I just wish life had been a little easier for _you_. Maybe you wouldn't have had to work your fingers to the bone every damn day." Darcy sighs as her mama wraps an arm around her.

"Suga', none of that matters now. I got you, you got me, and that's all I've ever needed."

* * *

Darcy would rather forget about the last 36 hours of her life. From being taken at gunpoint, to having her head bashed around, to the filthy living conditions they have her held up in, she’d just rather not think about the roaches that crawl over her while she pushes herself back further into the wall.

_I can make it through this, I’ve come so far. I’ve got to trust that Natasha is out there. She’s waiting for me somewhere._

She tells herself that over and over again as they throw her into the room with the bright lights and ask about Jane’s data. She understands the machines, she understands how they work, but she doesn't understand the ins-and-outs of data they've collected. Apparently she doesn't know enough, as the gun butt hits the underside of her jaw and her teeth rattle in her skull. She heaves a sob that slows into hiccups when they throw her back into the cell. The door creaks open to reveal a semi-familiar face, one of the thugs from New Mexico, and a piece of metal skids across the floor to her feet. 

Her hands hastily grab it, reading the branding of a StarkCom and flicking the device on and into her ear.

“Darcy, this is Natasha, I’m going to get you through this okay?”

Her heart stutters and her breath hitches.

**“Okay, I trust you.”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you'd like to follow me on tumblr I'm [Canibecandid](http://canibecandid.tumblr.com/) on there as well.


End file.
